Three Coffees
by ZeGabz
Summary: "Lonely girls like to linger in joints like this. Leaving room for any interested parties." Three times Kensi and Deeks meet a coffee shop, and one time they truly connect.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: TDDUP will be updated in the coming weeks, but it's a slow project.**

**Also, about the ages. I did my research. Kensi was born in 1982, and Deeks in 1979, according to the NCIS LA Database. So in 1997, she was fifteen, so Deeks would be eighteen. Ta-da!**

**Oh, and I'm aware that this is shorter than my usual stuff. It's not an accident. XD**

* * *

The girls behind her giggle again, and Kensi Blye sighs, taking another sip of her vanilla bean latte. She really wants to move, but the lighting is just so nice in this spot and her book is really, really good.

She used to not be crazy about reading, but with her father off on duty and her mother . . . out of the picture, she doesn't really have anything else to do. She's grown to really like these books, anyways. They take her wandering mind off of everything.

She's not sure why coffee shops like this one hold so much appeal- they really aren't that special, as far as she can see. A lot of girls in her class like to flock here. They think it gives them a certain level of class. As far as she can see, boy-crazy girls hyped up on caffeine aren't exactly "classy", but hey, live and let live.

She returns to her book, humming the tune of Step by Step under her breath.

It's an odd thing, being fifteen. She's beginning to form very solid opinions about the world and people around her. Boys are no longer boys- a few are starting to have facial hair. Adults expect her to have opinions, but brush them off whenever she gives them.

Adults like her mother.

The very thought stirs up several angry feelings she doesn't bother trying to repress. Only two weeks ago did her mother try to whisk her away to Boston to live with some moronic love affair of hers. Kensi hadn't always gotten along with her mother, but until then, she had been able to brush away Julia's shortcomings. Not this time. Her mother hadn't only betrayed her father, but her family. She'd ruined it. Every happy Christmas and Easter would forever be shrouded by the thought of her mother's infidelity.

Kensi hates her for that.

She takes another sip, feeling like an alcoholic using a drink for solace in a harsh world. Except she has coffee. And homework.

"Mind if I steal a chair?" comes a voice. Kensi glances up from her book into the bright blue eyes of a scruffy blonde boy who appears to be a few years older than her. She throws on her poker face, hoping he hadn't been able to gauge the dark thoughts running through her mind. "My friend needs a seat."

"Which one?" she asks curiously. He points over to a stronger-built guy who looks a few years older than him, standing in line waiting for coffee. She raises an eyebrow, expecting him to point to another person, but his arm drops back down to his side. "Why do you need three chairs?" she asks, puzzled.

"Lonely girls like to linger at joints like this," he replies with an impish grin. "Leaving room for any interested parties," he adds with a wink. Kensi bites her bottom lip, holding back a snicker, but she can't hide her amusement.

"You've really thought this out, haven't you?" she snorts, unable to suppress her smile.

"Oh, yeah," he replies, "It's a foolproof plan, trust me."

"You got data to support that?" she asks playfully.

"This is getting girls, not the scientific method," the blonde laughs, "A much trickier business." He's gotten a full laugh from her now.

She gestures for him to go ahead and take the chair, and he whispers a quick thank you as his friend comes up from behind him.

If only she was a few years older, she thinks. She may be the musing, miserable teenager her friends see, but she's not blind. Blondie was kind of cute.

* * *

"Five minutes, Deeks," Kensi warns, eyes narrowed, "And then we're heading back." Deeks rolls his eyes at her, sitting down at a small round table, hands folded in front of him.

"Come on Kens," he pouts, "Live a little! You can't get all your nutrients from the Woody." That quip earns him a few curious glances from nearby customers, and Kensi heaves a sigh before sitting down.

"In my defense, I only made that once. And coffee doesn't have nutrients, really."

"But it does have caffeine."

She has to give him that one. And she can't deny that this case in particular has been very draining- emotionally, mentally, and physically. A father of three, killed in cold blood the week before his fiftieth birthday, leaving behind a devoted and grieving wife. Whoever killed him knew what they were doing as well. Few forensic evidence was left behind, and what evidence they did find was so befuddling they had it sent to DC for Abby to check out.

Caffeine sounds . . . ncie. So does relaxation.

"Five minutes," she repeats, sitting down across from him and feeling an odd sense of Deja Vu.

"Ten," he amends, giving her that puppy dog face of his. Too bad for him, after seeing Monty pull that exact same pout, his just can't compare. "Kens, really, this isn't the kind of place you just walk in and out of!"

"You been here before?" Kensi asks, hoping to get her mind off of the case.

"Oh yeah," Deeks replies, "Been drinking here since I was a teenager. You?"

"Same," Kensi replies distantly, "I would come here to study during high school." Deeks studies her curiously. She wills her cheeks to not heat up under his gaze, but as usual, they don't listen. "What about you?"

"During college," Deeks answers, "I would try and pick up dates with Ray here." Kensi laughs, not at all surprised. "I don't think we ever really succeeded . . ."

"Shocker," Kensi quips, smirking.

"And you wonder why I don't open up to you," Deeks throws back. "What about you? Ever meet someone special here?" Kensi laughs.

"That only happens in movies, Deeks," she snorts. He doesn't reply, instead opting to grin serenely at her. The silence allows her mind to drift back to their case. "I hate this case," she admits softly, "I really do."

"I know," Deeks says soothingly, his hand moving across the table to rest over hers, squeezing it gently. She looks up at him in surprise and he quickly pulls his hand back. "Cases like this make me realize-"

"How much we have to lose?" Kensi finishes softly. "Or how much we don't have to lose."

"Don't?" Deeks asks, "What do you mean?"

"The Lieutenant had a family," Kensi replies, "Kids, a wife . . . and what do we have? Aside from Sam, when we die, who will be there to miss us?"

"I'd miss you," Deeks says, his eyes boring into hers. "Your mother would miss you, everyone at NCIS would miss you."

"And once we're done missing each other? What will we live on through?" She heaves a heavy sigh, twirling her straw around in her fingers. "Don't you want to be more than a file?"

"You are more than a file," Deeks says, "I mean, you're Kensi!"

"That can't be your mantra for whenever I'm upset," Kensi chides, "It may make you feel better, but it doesn't do much for me." She sighs again. "Can we talk about something else please?"

"Whatever you want."

"You told me you've been here several times. Let's um . . . let's start there, I guess." She smiles. "I suppose ten more minutes couldn't do any harm."

* * *

"Who's the kid?" Ray asks, sitting down. Marty Deeks shrugs, reaching over to grab himself whatever his friend ordered for him.

"Don't know," he replies, "Give her a few years, bet she'll be hot." His friend casts a curious glance towards the brunette.

"She keeps looking over at you," Ray chuckles. "You must've left a good impression." Deeks laughs.

"What can I say? Lawyers are hot."

"You're not a lawyer yet, hotshot," Ray snorts.

Deeks brushes off the jibe. He's not going to let his old friend bother him, not when he has so much else to worry about. It's his lunch break right now, he's going to have to head back to the small diner soon to clean off the tables and after that he has a study session with a few friends before he takes the LSAT's.

The LSAT's. He still can't believe it. He, Marty Deeks, the delinquent kid who shot his own bastard father at eleven, will be taking a test to get him into law school. And he'll be damned if he doesn't pass it.

He probably shouldn't be here with Ray, getting coffee. He's exhausted. Between studying, working two jobs, and college, he's had no time to himself, and this precious little lunch hour has now been sacrificed in favor of his friend.

But he owes Ray. He knows that, and Ray knows that. He'll sleep later. Sleep is for the weak. And Marty Deeks is anything but weak.

"Excuse me? This seat taken?" Deeks is broken from his reverie by a blonde woman with bright green eyes and full red lips, holding a mocha. Ray wags his eyebrows at him and grins.

"Go ahead," Deeks says, gesturing towards the chair. He catches the eye of the cute young brunette, who rolls her eyes at him before returning to her book. That draws a grin from Deeks, who decides to put on a little show for the kid. "I'm Marty. That's Ray." The girl obviously doesn't hear him- she's engrossed in the book again.

What could be more interesting than him?

"I'm Monica," the girl says with a smile, sitting down and tucking a strand of hair behind an ear. "I think I've seen you around here before."

"We come here all the time," Ray supplies, "Don't we, Marty?" Deeks is still looking at the teenager, who is still reading. He doesn't like being brushed aside, even by a girl who can't be more than a sophomore in high school. "Marty?"

"Uh, yeah!" Deeks replies sheepishly.

"Where do you go to school?" Monica asks conversationally. "I'm actually from Ohio. Nursing major at UCLA."

"Nursing?" Now Deeks is intrigued. He likes nurses. Well, he liked nurses when he broke his leg while playing kickball with Ray and had to go to the emergency room with his mom. Monica nods.

"My parents were both nurses," she explains. She averts her gaze back to Ray. "What about you two?" she asks, although it's clear her attention is solely on Ray. About time, Deeks muses.

But still. He lost the interest of a teenager and now this Monica lady. He has no game today.

"Excuse me," he says, winking at Ray before standing up and briskly walking off, tossing his now-empty cup of coffee in the garbage can near the door. He casts a curious glance over at the girl, who is now rising herself, book in hand. He pushes the door open and holds it as she exits, giving her a quick smile as she passes. She merely rolls her eyes before disappearing around a corner.

* * *

**Have any of you guys seen the trailer made for "Retreat" by ibroketheinternet on Youtube? It's incredible, isn't it? If you haven't seen it, I encourage you to check it out! It rocks!**

**So this has kind of turned into a story within a story. We'll see where it goes.**

**Also, I'm feeling the urge to write song-fics. Any requests? Leave them in reviews!**

**Also check my Tumblr for updates and previews!**

**All reviews are appreciated! Hope you all have a better week than I did! Fevers are not pleasant.**

**-Gab**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for all of the feedback! I appreciate each and every review I get! *kisses* **

**So this chapter takes place on New Year's Eve, the year Jack leaves Kensi. So Kensi would be 21 and Deeks would be 24, by my calculations. **

* * *

The first thing Deeks notices when he walks into the coffee shop is the brunette sitting alone at a small round table near the window. The second thing he notices is that she looks absolutely miserable.

Her shoulders are hunched over and she huddles around her cup of coffee like it's a lifeline. He can't see her face yet, but he wouldn't be surprised if he observed hollow eyes and unshed tears.

He can't count the number of times he's seen his own mother that way- fragile and broken. His instinct tells him to embrace this girl, this stranger who has nobody to turn to. However, his experiences with his mother also tell him that physical contact isn't always the best form of comfort.

"Hey mister, you ordering or not?" someone demands from behind him. Broken from his reverie, Deeks shuffles up to the counter, stammering a quick apology. He orders himself a grande skim latte (and has to subdue his anger when the man behind him in line snorts).

He gets a decent view of her face from the counter while waiting for his latte. Unfortunately, most of her features are shrouded by her wavy hair or sharp shadows caused by said hair, but his limited view is enough to know.

She's breaking.

He's struck by a flash of Deja Vu, has he seen this broken-hearted girl before? Something about her just seems . . . familiar. Has he seen her before?

. . . nah.

"Marty?" an Asian girl pushes his coffee on the counter with a polite smile. He thanks her quietly before moving to a booth with a decent view of the girl.

God, he is being such a creep.

But there's just something about her. A sense of foreboding, maybe.

He finds strangers refreshing. The people at his law school are tired of him already, and he's tired of them. He's the only one in his class who doesn't cite money as his main reason for wanting to become a lawyer. Well, that's an exaggeration. But still. Once you get to know people, they become much less appealing. Especially at law school.

He really should stop staring at her. Hell, he doesn't even know her name. But there's something about her, something foreboding that's telling him she's important. Maybe not to him, or to anyone, just important.

He wonders what she looks like when she smiles.

She picks up a novel, and he can't help but smile. Sad girls either hide from their pain via a group of friends or in a Jane Austen novel. She's tied up in Wuthering Heights. How depressing. But still sort of cute, in its own way.

He takes a sip of his coffee, averting his eyes when she glances up, misty eyes still hidden by the shadows cast by her dark brown locks.

He's not being creepy. He's not being creepy.

* * *

"I just don't understand," Kensi says, "He's a father. What could he possibly be involved in that attracts the attention of a professional?"

"Hey," Deeks admonishes gently, "Get your mind off the case. Five more minutes, remember?"

"Well then what do you suggest we talk about?" Kensi snorts. Deeks studies her for a moment, considering.

"Back in law school," he says finally, "I used to play a game with my friends. We would look up random words in a dictionary and then try to have an argument about it before a mock trial. No matter how stupid the word was."

Kensi smiles. "And you're telling me this because . . ."

"These places always have dictionaries and scrabble games," Deeks points out, standing and making his way over to a small wooden bookshelf, grabbing a small dictionary. "Let's play." This draws a laugh from Kensi, which encourages him. Tough cases like this . . . shouldn't be discussed outside of Ops.

He flips open the dictionary and points blindly at a word near the bottom of the page. His eyes wander down and he looks back up at her.

"Well?" she asks.

"Comity," Deeks recites. "You ever heard it before?" Kensi shakes her head, leaning in. "A state of mutual harmony, friendship, and respect." Oh. Kensi stares, feeling slightly uneasy on the inside. What a coincidence.

"So . . . what now?" she asks, breaking the tense silence that has fallen between them.

"Now . . . we talk!" Deeks says with a smile. "So. Comity. It's a noun."

Kensi rolls her eyes, snickering. "Yes. Yes it is. Anything else?"

"You think it's a good word to describe our thing?" he asks, catching her off guard. First off, their thing should never, ever be spoken of unless under extreme duress. Second off . . .

He's right.

Whatever their thing is, it's delved a lot deeper than she cares to admit. Like it or not, he's not just her partner anymore. She's not just his partner. She's tried passing what they have off as being best friends or him being like a brother, but it just doesn't fit. As Hetty said, they've become something more, and she doesn't know how the hell she's going to deal with it.

_A state of mutual harmony-_

Maybe not the best word. More like sync. Because their partnership has been far less than harmonious. There have been times she has been very tempted to just punch him (and times that she's given in to the temptation). They've been nearly blown up, shared a bed (albeit, undercover), and gotten into far too many sticky situations than she'd care to admit. But beneath the squabbling, the banter, the fiery insults they hurl at each other . . .

_-friendship . . ._

He's still the only person she trusts. He was there for her in one of the darkest points in her life, with few words and sentiment that meant the world to her. He's rescued her from Russian terrorists, made his way through a hospital with re-opened bullet wounds to save her, and is always there with a burger and a beer after a long and hard case.

_-and respect._

When he first arrived at NCIS, Kensi had openly questioned if he was the best the LAPD had to offer. She knows now that he deserved none of her doubt. Marty Deeks is one of the best cops she has ever seen. He's a natural at going undercover and has a way with people that makes her wonder how he does it. He has street sense, something that is born, not made. And despite the fact that he never shows it, he's sharp as a tack.

"No," she says finally, "Our thing is like Voldemort. It cannot be named." Deeks laughs, shaking his head at her.

"You still need to work on your jokes," he teases, "But you're getting there, sugar bear."

"Oh come on, that was funny!" Kensi says hotly, poking his arm. Deeks rolls his eyes and does that adorable little smirk of his.

"Maybe," he relents, "If you plug your ears and close your eyes-"

"Whatever, like you're any funnier," Kensi mutters, pouting but still watching him with sparkling eyes from under her eyelashes.

"Trust me babe, I'm hilarious," Deeks replies, "And you know it. Know how I know?"

"How?" Kensi asks challengingly.

"Your eyes," he finishes triumphantly, "They LOLing right now."

"Did you just say LOL?" Kensi asks dubiously, holding back the laugh that threatens to bubble from her. "Seriously?"

"Do it," Deeks says with a grin, "You know you want to."

"I won't!" Deeks wags his eyebrows at her.

"I'll tickle you," he warns playfully. She snorts.

"You wouldn't da-OH!" His hand has wormed to her side under their tiny table, dancing against her blouse. She can't hold back the little squeak that bursts out, and when his tickling becomes more intense, she begins to laugh.

"I know you could," he teases, pulling his hand back. Kensi shoves him, but he takes it all in stride, still looking highly amused.

"Just give me another word," she says, rolling her eyes. Deeks winks and grabs the dictionary. He flips through the pages and puts his finger in the middle of the page.

"Sonder," he reads, "the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you'll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk."

* * *

Kensi has a feeling she's being stared at. And though she hates to sound vain, she's used to it by now. Boys will be boys, after all. However, it doesn't make her feel any better about herself right now, because honestly, she's never been so miserable in her entire life.

Scratch that, she has been, in fact. She just hasn't been so sad since her father passed away.

She almost feels ashamed that she's allowed a man to completely shatter her into a thousand little pieces, but she knows that she hadn't been stupid. What she and Jack had was the real thing, and it was going places. She knows it had been. She was ready to marry that man, and despite the fact that he was as broken as she is now, maybe even worse off, she wanted to spend to rest of her life with him. She wanted to fix him.

But she couldn't. She failed.

She failed Jack, the beautifully brave and wounded man she loves.

She hates herself.

She hates her life.

She hates Jack for leaving. She just-she-

She doesn't know how to go on.

* * *

Deeks watches the young woman curiously as she stands up with a demeanor of great sadness. She crosses the space with long strides, her eyes downcast. He offers her a small smile when she walks by him, but she either doesn't notice it or doesn't care, because she doesn't even meet his gaze.

He signals a young blonde waitress with a bright smile over, and inquires after the woman.

"I don't know her name," she admits, "But she used to come with this tall man in a uniform. I haven't seen him with her in a while, however." She frowns slightly. "Judging from the way she looks, I think they might have broken up." Deeks nods, thanking her and smiling. Suddenly, an idea strikes him.

"Do you have a pen I could borrow?" he asks. The waitress arches an eyebrow curiously. "I'll return it," he promises. The waitress gives him a curious look before finally nodding, pulling a black pen out of her pocket and leaving it on the table.

"Wow," Kensi breathes, "That's very philosophical of you. And not as creepy as I figured it would be." She purses her lips. "Really makes you think, doesn't it? I mean, as investigators it's our jobs to know our victims and their killers, but do we really?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, there are so many little moments in their lives that we'll never know about. Little glances that made them blush when they were teenagers, smiling out of nowhere just because they're happy . . . we'll never know about that." Deeks looks at her for a moment, pondering. His eyes twinkle a little, that adorable little sparkle that appears when he's thinking.

"You're right," he says finally. "But if we can't see those . . . then I guess we'll just have to make some moments of our own." Kensi looks at him curiously, and he holds her gaze, shrugging.

* * *

Looking at herself in the mirror, Kensi blinks rapidly one more time, wiping away the last stray tears still sticking to her skin. Her mascara and eyeliner are smeared, but she can't bring herself to care enough to wipe it off. It would only redden her eyes more, she certainly does not need that. Besides, it's not like she has anyone left in her life to impress.

She grabs her purse and exits the tiny restroom, hiding her face behind her hair. She crosses the small shop, and sits down at her table, grabbing her coffee and taking a small sip before noticing a small scrap of paper protruding from her book.

Curious, she pulls it out, along with her bookmark. She sighs, but doesn't bother trying to relocate her place.

_Hello stranger._

_I was sitting across from you, and I couldn't help noticing how sad you look. Whoever it is that made you sad . . . they're gonna regret it. Promise. Because even though you look like you're about to cry, you're the most beautiful girl in this room. I hope that the next time I see you, you'll be smiling. I bet it would look good on you._

She stares at the paper for another few moments, shocked before quickly looking up and glancing around. She doesn't see anyone looking over at her.

Glancing back over at the tiny note, Kensi closes her eyes and, for the first time in weeks, allows herself to smile.

* * *

**I'm so sorry this took so long, you guys! I've been beyond busy with show choir and the play I'm in! Enjoy!**

**-Gab**


End file.
